TAMPON ANNIHILATOR

As you all know, in the beginning of September my brother Dusty cut his own dick off.  Luckily, his wife found him bleeding out on the bed and got him to the E.R.  They replaced his genitalia with a pneumatic penile assembly and saved his life and sex life, as he was quite lack luster in the bed to begin with.  The details of all this are in my post “Pneumatic Erotica 2” from September 12^th.   So anyways, it’s actually pretty lucky for him that he got that new pneumatic penis assembly but at the same time it’s a double edged sword of sorts for his wife.  You see, his wife, Susie, has a hereditary condition called vaginal hyperdontia.  Now, regular hyperdontia is the condition of having supernumerary teeth, or teeth which appear in addition to the regular number of teeth (an extra growth of teeth in your mouth).  So VAGINAL hyperdontia basically translates to her having teeth in her vagina.  Now don’t scrunch your eye brows together in confusion.  What you’re thinking right now is correct.  She has what equates to a mouth pussy.  Not the scary kind of mouth pussy with fangs or K-9 teeth or something like that, they’re more like molars.  She has 10 vagimolars total; five on each side of her vaginal wall.  The problem Dusty has always had is that when he had intercourse it was like getting a blowjob from a girl who’s never done it before and lets too many of her teeth touch your penis shaft.  So imagine pounding a vagina full of teeth.  Not the most comfortable thing but I suppose after awhile you’d build up a callus on your dick so vagimolars didn’t rip your shit apart.  That turned out to be the case, Dusty told me.  His penile skin had the consistency of a cowboy’s leather saddle to handle the constant rubbing and scraping of the pussy teeth.  The problem, now, is that with Dusty having a pneumatic penis, his dick is harder than his wife’s vaginal teeth and his penis is now wearing them down.  She has had to have several vagimolars extracted as they’d been worn down to the root and were causing her severe pain.  If you’ve ever had your wisdom teeth removed you know that it may not be painful because of the numbing shots but it’s a bloody and gruesome event.  A dental surgeon and a gynecologist had to be called in to remove her first 4 vaginal molars.  They performed it in much the same way as you would for wisdom teeth using pliers, chisels, and various other medieval devices to shatter, crunch, and extract the teeth.  By the time the fourth tooth was pulled it looked like she’d been fucked with a chainsaw.  So, after multiple surgeries Dusty’s wife is now down to only 2 vagina teeth, one on either side.   Dusty and Susie are much happier now.   Susie is also grateful because now she can start wearing tampons again.  She couldn’t before because her pussy mouth would tear them to shreds.  When she was a young college student she’d perform tricks at her local bar on Friday nights for free drinks by chewing up whole Maxi Pads with her Clam.  The difficulty was when it wasn’t time to show off it would still act up.  In math class, her pussy ate the crotch out of her brand new Levi jeans.  On a trip to Myrtle Beach it swallowed her bikini bottom, completely, leaving her suddenly naked on the bottom.  Finally, she’ll never forgive herself, or rather her vagina mouth, for severing the tongue off of that poor sophomore kid who just wanted to give her some head.  Susie is grateful that her final surgery for those last two teeth is this next week.  I have high hopes for those two love birds; with Dusty’s pneumatic cock and Susie’s newly tooth-free pussy there’s nothing those two can’t overcome.    

THE BELL CURVE OF BOSOMS

Every one, by now at least, has seen a T-shirt that says something like “These aren’t my eyes” or “My face is up here” (with an arrow pointing, at breast level, up towards the face).  The implication of the shirt being that women are annoyed at the fact that men stare at their breasts when they should be respecting them as an equal, rather than some sex object.  I can imagine, if I put myself in their shoes, that someone staring at my breasts all day would get rather irritating.  I was about to say “If someone was staring at my crotch all day” as a way to try and relate but that’s apples and oranges, cause I wouldn’t give a fuck, and, in fact, might appreciate someone staring at my junk on a regular basis.  Anyway, so everyone understands that staring at a woman’s breasts is considered rude and men try their best to fight that genetic urge. The thing is, is that, during their lifetime, women aren’t always so opposed to men staring at their bosom.  The BELL CURVE OF BOSOMS, as I like to call it, is what I use to try and understand this curious phenomenon.  

 The bell curve starts at the bottom when they are just going through puberty.  They don’t give a shit at this point; in fact, they probably wouldn’t even realize it if someone WAS looking at them.  They are just happy that they’ve moved out of the mosquito bite realm.  They then head into early womanhood and now are getting progressively more and more attention from the opposite sex.  This attention leads to self confidence and a raised self esteem and they may begin to even flaunt what God gave them.  They wear tighter and tighter clothing, lower v-necks exposing more cleavage, will spontaneously do jumping jacks, etc.  After that its college and we now have an explosion of hormones, sexual drive, freedom from parents, and youthful exuberance, all at once.  Titties start flying everywhere!  Wet T-shirt contests, booze cruises, frat parties, lesbian experimentation, Mardi gras, Girls gone Wild, etc.  Then they graduate college and need to get into the workforce.  So the titties, for the most part, get tucked away into business suits and more conservative clothing, still revealing some feminine traits, but considerably more subdued.  Now these guys that grew up with them didn’t forget the Mardi gras, Girls gone Wild, and those drunken frat party lesbian make-out sessions.  In addition, like I said, we have a genetic predisposition to stare anyways.  The business woman, mother, school teacher, etc., is now getting tired of the men now staring at her and becomes annoyed.  This annoyance turns into a full out opposition to the stare.  This then perpetuates itself for years.  The men around her begin to finally respect her for who she is and are pretty much well behaved and not constantly staring or are at least doing it discretely.  This is the peak of the curve.  As the woman gets older, however, she begins to lose her looks somewhat.  She may lose self confidence and self esteem because she feels she has lost that youthful femininity.  The bell curve begins, at this point, to drop back down.  She tries to rekindle that young girl that she has lost over the years.  Titties, that haven’t seen the sun’s rays in years, starting coming out again.  She starts hunting after the men who once stared at her breasts, but whom no longer will.  The cougar is born.  She wants to be stared at again like she used to be before she started scolding those gawkers of her middle aged years.  The bell curve has come back down to the bottom.  So you see, that is how I understand this phenomenon of the rise, fall, and the rise again of the titties.